


Find Me Clean and Quiet

by Thousand_Ribbons (Meridians_of_Madness)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Dark, Dehumanization, Exposure, Good Omens Kink Meme, Hurt No Comfort, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Trauma, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21702937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridians_of_Madness/pseuds/Thousand_Ribbons
Summary: Aziraphale endures a physical check for corruption in Heaven. Bodies are intimate things, and angels who have never had one or been to Earth have no idea of the injuries those bodices can suffer.*Filled for the kink meme prompt locatedhere.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	Find Me Clean and Quiet

“Ah... I thought it would be Reviel performing my examination,” Aziraphale said, trying to keep his voice level.

He must not have succeeded, because the angel, tall and with a rather remote look in their gray eyes, gave him a disapproving glance.

“Reviel was transferred last quarter,” the angel said. “I'll be performing your examination today.”

Aziraphale's mouth contorted in a faint and conciliatory smile, but the angel didn't notice, going back to their paperwork. His stomach did a slow roll. He had _liked_ Reviel. These exams were not -were never- pleasant, but Reviel had been kind. Reviel smiled and asked him how things were on Earth and if he was doing well. Reviel's touch was gentle, and when he flinched as he inevitably did, they slowed down and gave him time to calm himself...

“Please take your clothes off,” the angel who wasn't Reviel said sharply. “You've been on Earth for almost six thousand years, surely you know the procedure by now?”

“Oh! Of course. I'm sorry. Just... just a moment, please.”

He felt impaled on the angel's scowl as he fumbled with his clothes. He was never aware of how very many clothes he wore unless he was in Heaven for his regular examination. Layers of fabric, so many buttons and fasteners, he wondered suddenly if it was all just so he could put off the inevitable.

The exam room was cold, and the steel table behind him would be frigid, he knew. He deliberately stayed turned away from it as he finally got to his bare skin. The angel waited impatiently as he fussed with his clothes, hanging them up and feeling that first surge of panic when he realized he had been truly separated from them, that he was in fact, utterly naked.

“All right, please stand up straight.”

He did, cringing a little as the angel came to stand in front of him.

“Aziraphale, stand up straight, please,” the angel repeated in exasperation.

“I'm sorry,” he said, forcing himself up and his shoulders back. “I'm just a little-”

He swallowed the words as the angel swept strong fingers through Aziraphale's hair. There was something unnervingly pleasurable about it, the fingertips against his scalp, and it made him think of how Crowley would sometimes-

No.

Not here.

He swallowed, eyes half-closed as the angel inspected him for signs of malfeasance, for any hint that he had been corrupted by earthly things or demonic presence. The angel dragged their fingertips over his face, his ears, his nose and down to his neck, paying special attention to his throat and his pulse.

“I'm going to go down your front and then your back,” the angel said, and before Aziraphale could say anything at all, they began.

 _It's just an examination,_ Aziraphale reminded himself. _It is standard operating procedure for angels stationed on Earth for more than a quarter. It is for our own good..._

He had fought in the Great War. He should be used to things that were good making him want to cry.

It was fine when the angel did his arms, a little harder when they swept their hands over his chest. His nipples had hardened in the cold, and when the angel squeezed them gently between thumb and forefinger, Aziraphale winced. That made the angel frown, and the pinches that came after, first the left and the right, were hard enough to make hip yelp.

“That's not-!”

“They shouldn't be that sensitive,” the angel said with a frown. “Let me make a note of that.”

As the angel made the notation on their tablet, Aziraphale realized with a sinking heart that this angel had never had a physical corporation. Reviel had had one long ago. They knew how strange bodies were, how intimately personal they became after thirty or forty years. This angel had no idea.

“Er. Can we. That is, is there _anyone else-”_

The angel scowled at him.

“There isn't,” they said shortly. “We're understaffed this quarter. Almost everyone got moved. Are we going to have a problem?”

“No,” Aziraphale said dejectedly.

“Good.”

He closed his eyes as the angel palpitated his belly, ran their hands down his hips and his legs and bent to examine his feet closely. The urge to kick the angel as hard as he could was almost overwhelming, and he clenched his hands into fists.

They are only doing their job. They don't like this any more than I do. It's only a little longer. Just a little longer and then I can go home... I mean back. I can go back to the bookstore, and London, and Earth and Crowley...

It was a mistake to think of Earth. Whenever he did so during his examinations, it brought a lump to his throat, made him tear up as if he were in a dust storm. He could feel the tears threatening now, and he breathed carefully until they retreated.

The angel turned him around, giving his back the same treatment as his front. That wasn't bad, and it was over quickly. The angel wasn't cruel about it. Of course they weren't. This was only a job. Standard operating procedure. Required and essential.

“All right then,” said the angel, making another notation on their tablet. “That all looks fine.”

“Oh good-”

Aziraphale's silly little smile dropped off his face entirely when he saw the angel had miracled a pair of black latex gloves onto their hands. It looked as if they had dipped their hands in tar, and he felt dizzy. Why in the name of Heaven did he always feel dizzy?

“No, oh no, surely...”

The angel made an exasperated sound.

“You _know_ that this is part of every examination,” the angel scolded. “It happens every time. You have been through this literally thousands of times.”

“Oh, I know, but please.... can't we... just an exception, just this once?”

He could hear the whine in his voice, hated himself for it, and the angel's frown grew deeper.

“Was this something that Reviel allowed?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say yes, of course Reviel had waived this part of the examination. That might mean that the angel would have to check, and of course Aziraphale had to be back down on Earth, and he might put off the rest of the exam for another quarter...

But then of course Reviel would be called up, and Aziraphale would be found out or Reviel would be punished, and no. No, he could not bear either of those things, so instead he had to bear this.

“No. Reviel didn't allow it,” he said dully.

“Then I don't see why you thought I would. Up on the table now. This is already going to run over, so be quick about it.”

Aziraphale felt as if he were made of wood, clumsy as he took a seat on the table. It was frigid as it always was, painfully cold against his rear and his legs. He told himself that the sooner it started, the sooner it would be done, so he opened his mouth before the angel asked him to do so.

It didn't make the angel any kinder when they slid their thumb along first his upper lip and then his lower, and then pressed it deep into his mouth.

“Close, please.”

Aziraphale stifled a panicked urge to gag as he closed his lips around the angel's thumb, It was obscene the way the angel's thumb pressed his tongue, his teeth, and then sought the back of his throat. He swallowed around, it, and when he found himself sucking instinctively, an entirely misplaced frisson of desire ran through him.

The angel drew his hand out, ignoring Aziraphale's slight gasp but nodding his cock, which was half hard.

“That's better,” they commented.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and leaned back as the angel grasped his cock, pumping it several times, before letting go to inspect its length and its girth. He had once had difficulty maintaining an erection for this part of the exam, and sometimes still did. Long experience helped, as did the random images of kind hands, soft touches and sweet kisses that he made himself concentrate on. Sometimes at this point, he could sort of detach himself from his body, pull away enough that he could watch what happened next calmly and numbly.

Then the angel nodded, and something about the way they did it broke Aziraphale's calm entirely. Before the angel could even tell him to get his legs up into the stirrups at the end of the table, Aziraphale's breath caught in his chest, and when he could get it loose, it came out in a sob.

“Please, please, I can't, I don't want to-!”

The angel drew back in alarm, staring at the tears that welled in Aziraphale's eyes, the way his shoulders shook.

“Aziraphale...”

“Please, I _can't_ ,” Aziraphale wept. “Please don't make me.”

The angel pursed their lips, and then without a word, they turned and left the examination room, the door swinging shut behind them.

The relief that flooded through him was so profound and so powerful that he had to be still for several moments, shaking hard. It was over. They had stopped. He could just go home.

He climbed down off the table and reached for his clothes, forcing his breath to go level. He would be better next quarter. He would be calmer. He would do everything they said, and not whine or complain at all.

“Aziraphale. What the hell.”

The archangel's voice made him freeze in his tracks, cringing as he turned around.  
Standing in the doorway of the examination was Gabriel, the angel who had been doing the examination a half-step behind them.

“Gabriel! I... I...”

“I... I,” mimicked the archangel savagely. “Aziraphale, Kaviel came to get me out of a very important conference call because of this. What's the matter?”

“Well, I was just having my exam, and... and...”

Gabriel snorted, but then closed their eyes, obviously counting to ten. When they opened them, they offered Aziraphale what they obviously thought was a comforting smile.

“Come on, sunshine. This again?”

Aziraphale could only nod, because, yes. This again.

“Sweetheart, we've been over this before, right? Why are you here?”

“To... to be examined for any sign of corruption. To verify that I have been... pure and celibate.”

“That's right!” said Gabriel. “And for Kaviel to do their job, you need to do yours, and that means...?”

“Letting them do what they need to do.”

The words broke him. They always did. Large tears started to drip down his face, but there was no protest left to him, no resistance he could make.

Gabriel nodded.

“Aziraphale won't give you any more trouble,” they said to Kaviel, “but since I've moved my call, how about if I stay here and make sure?”

Kaviel looked as if they didn't care either way, and at their glare, Aziraphale got back on the table scooting down to the end to lift his legs up into the stirrups. The steel bit into the back of his knees, and every time he was in this position, he felt as if they spread his legs wider.

“Aziraphale, I have finished with this configuration, I need the other.”

Aziraphale couldn't respond. He felt cold, his own heartbeat distant and slow. What in the world was the angel talking about? What other? What configuration? It wasn't his body after all, why should he-

“Aziraphale,” said Gabriel warningly, and Aziraphale choked on a sob, closing his eyes tight.

It took him a terrible long moment where he could feel both of the other angels' eyes on him, and then he was done, cock replaced with a smooth, plump cunt. He shut his eyes tight, but he couldn't escape the image of himself, spread out under the harsh light and bare. Reviel had been kind, but even they couldn't soothe Aziraphale through this portion of the exam. He had cried with them as well, cried just as he was doing now, head tilted and saltwater pooling on the steel surface under his head.

He shuddered violently when Kaviel's fingers ran up and down his slit, and he choked on a cry when the other angel pinched his clit firmly.

“It _hurts_ ,” he protested.

“It wouldn't if you would relax,” said Gabriel. “Just keep going, Kaviel. Aziraphale's always like this.”

Kaviel's fingers jabbed into him, hard and slicked only with Aziraphale's natural moisture. He was wet for this, he usually was, and he never understood it. Wasn't that supposed to be a sign of pleasure? Wasn't it supposed to mean he liked it?

He winced as Kaviel prodded at him, but he lay as still as he could, breathing and telling himself it was almost over. It was almost over. He could go home soon, and it didn't matter if he cried over that because he was already crying.

Finally, Kaviel withdrew their fingers, and Aziraphale breathed with relief.

“Intact, everything is just as it should be. Get up, and bend over the edge of the table, please.”

Almost over. He could do this.

He was almost calm again, bent over as Kaviel had demanded and seeing nothing but the table in front of him, when he heard the door open and someone new walk in.

“Oh, there you are, Gabriel. Uriel told me you had ended your call with them a little early.”

Aziraphale gasped as he realized that the door behind him was wide open now, and standing in the doorway was Michael themself.

“Please,” he begged, but before he could say anything else, Kaviel's fingers, cold and slicked with lube, slid down between his cheeks. The violation was just short of rough, opening him without sympathy or care; Kaviel was apparently impatient to be done.

“Yeah, Aziraphale's just having the usual trouble. Thought I would come down and deal with it personally.”

“You're far too soft about these matters,” Michael said disapprovingly.

Aziraphale bit his lip hard enough that he tasted blood, trying not to cry out as Kaviel worked their fingers into his ass. He wanted to tell Kaviel to go slower, to be easier, but he didn't dare, not with Michael there. Michael had once ordered him strapped down when he couldn't control himself, and even as fractured as he was in this moment, Aziraphale had no desire to risk that.

“I'm doing just fine,” Gabriel said easily. “Besides, it never hurts to get a little hands-on, you know...”

Aziraphale almost laughed at the archangel's choice of words, but he groaned instead as Kaviel thrust their fingers in deeper, rocking him against the table. It hurt, it ached, and he couldn't stop the tears from falling down his face at all, no matter who was watching or who was disappointed in him.

Finally, Kaviel was satisfied, drawing their fingers away and leaving Aziraphale empty and desperately grateful. He stayed where he was, aware that Michael had left but that Gabriel was still watching him. He felt no urge to do anything at all until the archangel sighed.

“Come on, Aziraphale. Stop being so dramatic. It's over now.”

Mutely, as sullen as Gabriel sometimes accused him of being, Aziraphale rose, stumbling towards his pile of clothing. He had most of his clothes on before he remembered that he could miracle himself dressed, but by then it seemed like too much trouble. He finished dressing, and he turned to find Gabriel grinning at him.

“Another clean exam!” exclaimed the archangel. “See, no problem at all, nothing to be afraid of.”

Aziraphale nodded, eyes downcast, and Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder.

“You've never even had a hint of a problem. I've looked at your records. No corruption, no sign that you've been, y'know, getting a little rambunctious down there, nothing. Why do you let yourself get so stressed out about this? You've got nothing to worry about, Aziraphale.”

Of course he didn't, not when he kept Crowley at deliberate arm's length with the practice of centuries. One drunken kiss back in the 1400s had led to his worst exam ever, one that still made him wince to remember. He knew better now, knew that the exam would come up clean, that Heaven, for all its power, couldn't examine what was in his heart or in his dreams.

 _It's fine,_ Aziraphale told himself as he made his way back down to Earth, but he could never force himself to believe that. Instead, he settled for _it's over_ , which was at least true,

It's over. It's over. He let the thought comfort him as he returned home to his city, his books, his life, and his demon. He deliberately did not think of the clock that had reset and even now was counting down to the next time.


End file.
